The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub
by Quidditch Anyone
Summary: Every good series needs at least one hip dance club.
1. The Idea Comes First

"The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub" by Quidditch, Anyone?

Plot: Every good series needs at least one hip dance club.

The Idea Comes First

Like all adrenaline- filled teenagers, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry need to, let's just say, let off a little steam once in a while. Of course, that meant wicked shindigs in the Gryffindor Common Room at least every other Friday. Unfortunately, with Professors breathing down your neck and lack of dry-bars and Flamingo dancers, the midnight blasts inside the school was not a permanent solution. 

Which is why it was about time for some genius students to come up for the idea for an-

"All-wizard dance club?" Hermione questioned.

"Yeah! Face it, Hermy- we need a place where we can just kick-back, relax,-"

"And get jiggy"

Fred and George had first voiced their idea the Saturday morning after their latest party (which, unsurprisingly, ended with McGonagall screaming at the Gryffindors until her cheap hairnet fell off at 3 in the morning).

"And how exactly do you plan to do this?" Ginny piped up from the landing of the girls' staircase.

"Let's not worry about that now," Fred said impatiently while hopping over to put an arm around his little sister. "Just picture the finish product," the gazed randomly with his left hand in front of him, seemingly enhancing the glorious scene. "An enchanted dance floor, dancers in cages suspended from the ceiling, disco lights, and teacher-free evenings of major groovin' away from the castle."

"Right, Fred," Hermione said sarcasticaly. "Now, how do you plan to, A, find a cheap, vacant pub where all this can take place, B, find the money for dancers in cages and disco-lights, and most importantly, C, be allowed out-of-bounds every week in order to party without any sort of supervision?"

"Dammit, she's right!" George snapped his fingers angrily.

"There _must_ be a way!" Fred said desperately. "I mean, this is a fanfic! How can this be a good story if we don't even have a bloody dance club!"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind," Fred said quickly. "The point is, where there's a will to get down and jiggy, there's a way!"

I'm sorry. This is stupid, but also the result of extreme writer's block, having no social life, and staying home in my oven-of-a-house all summer. Furthermore, Captain Obvious has already informed me that this is a ridiculously short chapter, but keep in mind it's just the introduction.


	2. Then Comes The Dancers And Old TV Series...

"The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub" by Quidditch, Anyone?

Then Comes the Dancers and Old TV Series Set

__

Things We Need For Our Trendy New Jivin' Club

1. A name

2. A place to 'get down'

3. Butterbeer

4. Cheez-Its

5. Dancers (or other hot forms of entertainment)

6. Solid gold dancing poles and/or cages

7. Toilet paper (for the Gryffindor loo)

8. Sh-

Fred looked up from his list temporarily while George came springing over to the couch on which he was sitting.

"Got the place!" he said excidedly.

"Really? Where?"

It was this old run-down building near some ally in Hogsmead. I think it used to be the set of some muggle game show called 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire'."

"Oh, right, I've heard of that," Fred said knowingly. "Dreadful. No suprise the place is abandoned now."

"And the best part is on the set they had all these funky lights and a network-sound-noise-stereo-thingy that played the theme music. The tune was annoying, but I'm sure we can fix it so it plays something more, er, tolerable."

"So we have the building, lights, and a network-sound-noise-stereo-thingy that can play music. Now all we need are some Cheez-Its-"

"Some _what?_"

"A name, dancers..." Fred confirmed from his list.

"What kind of list _is_ that? Fred, let _me_ take care of everything we need."

"So what can I do?"

"Well, you can, erm... make posters telling everyone about the club!"

"Score! How does this sound: The Simulated Super Sorcerer Shagadelic Shindig S-"

"Ah, on second thought, why don't you go ask some girls if they'll dance at the club," George said quickly. "It's the cheapest way to get some cheap entertainment. Just ask a few cheap girls to wear some cheap costumes and cheap make-up so they'll look really cheap."

"That's a cheap shot, but fine, I'll do it." Fred slouched away, crumpling his list and throwing it over his head into a group second-years.

·~··~··~·

"Absolutely not!" Hermione fumed ten minutes later in the girls' dormitory.

"C'mon, Hermione! Just a few nights, and if you don't like it, then you're only obligated to dance for another two and a half months, then I'll probably plead and pry once again until you give in again, and again, and again, until the club gets shut down. What's so bad about that?"

"No decent female would willingly dance in metal cages or even on your stupid stage! Not if she had any brains or morals of her own!"

"But Parvati and Lavender just agreed to do it, and I didn't even have to bribe them!"

Hermione looked as if she had putrid fish thrust under her nose.

"Keep in mind, Ronnikins is going to be at the club, too. I'm asking him to be the DJ." Fred smiled slyly.

Hermione blushed magenta. "_So?_"

"Just think about it," Fred pronounced as he turned a 180 and headed out of the dormitory. Mentally, he had put Hermione's name down for the entertainment the second he mentioned Ron, of course.

Next, he needed Ginny to be the waitress. Logically, with the slight lack in female entertainment, Ginny would have been down as another dancer, but the thought of his little sister waving her arms while hanging off a pole with her stomach showing gave him sudden urge to rid his digestive system of breakfast via puking his guts out. So, Ginny, or 'Gin-Gin' as she was now going to be called, would be serving drinks to sweaty, half-drunk wizards on the dance floor.

"And with the waitress, exotic-er, 'tasteful' dancers, and Ron hopefully as DJ, all we need is a bartender and bouncer. Hmm... well, Harry can be bartender, seeing as he's not the most likely candidate to be jammin' on the dance floor. Now, for bouncer, the last person who would ever jive, someone who is nerdy enough that he won't be missed, yet strong enough he can interfere if things get ugly. Well, the only person very likely is-"

"Erm, Fred? You haven't seen my teddy, Mr. Doody, anywhere, have you?"

Ah, _Neville_.

·~··~··~·

"Right, we nearly everything except for a name now," George informed Fred when everything else had been sorted out and accounted for.

"I told you, The Simulated Super-"

"Fred, that name might as well be The Stupid Sucky Screwy Snape Society. How about..."

"The Jammin' Jumpin' Jamboree?"

"No."

"The Wicked Weasley Wizard Wonderland?"

"No."

"The Chic Chocolate Chicken Cafe?"

Geroge raised his eyebrows. Fred just shrugged.

"The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub."

"Mmm, sounds a but amateur, don't you think?"

"Well, it's the best the author can come up with at the moment, so deal with it." George said.

"Okay. I'm sold."

Once in a while, I like to take a moment and write a deep poem reflected my biggest concern at the time;

Ants took over my bedroom,

There's spiders in my loo.

I suggest you varmints leave here,

Or you'll be flushed down with the poo.

But if you still choose to crash here,

And make yourselves at home,

Just this once, I'm warning you,

I'll write more cheesy poems.

Space in my mind for sale; I'm not using any of it.


	3. Albus Dumbledore:Disco King

"The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub" by Quidditch, Anyone?

Albus Dumbledore: Disco King

"What a _dump_," Ron exclaimed while trodding through a carpet of butterbeer bottles, crumpled papers, and old confetti.

"Yeah... why couldn't Fred and George clean up the old set themselves? I mean, this was their idea," Hary agreed.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said brightly as he bent over. "Five Sickles says this is a deformed rat. Care to place a bet?"

Harry examined the creature at a safe distance (no one but Ron would even go near something so gross) as it dangled from Ron's two fingers. "No bet," Harry shook his head as though saying 'freak'.

"Harry! Ron! You won't _believe_ what I've got!" Hermione squealed as she ran into the dusty chamber with a large box.

"What?" Ron asked as he and Harry started sweeping piles of rubbish into large trashcans.

"_This_," she opened the box and revealed a large, silvery, shining, disco ball. It was in fairly good condition, judging by the approximate 3/5 of shiny squares it still had on.

"Er, exactly what are we going to do with that, Hermione?" Ron asked, unimpressed.

"What do you mean?" She looked hurt.

"I mean, what does it _do?_"

"Well, it, erm..." She realized, for the first time, she didn't know. What _was_ the point of a disco ball, besides hanging above dance floors and occasionally knocking out swing dancers when it fell?

"You tell him, Harry."

"Well," Harry was lost for words. "It, er..."

"Look, the point is we have one." Hermione put her prized possession back in its box.

"Where did you get it, by the way?" Harry asked as he began to sweep again.

"My parents used to be hip dancers as well as drug-dealers in the 60's," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I sent them an owl and they found it in our basement."

"Well, good... I guess," Ron said.

"Oh, by the way, George wants you back in the castle so you can start contructing the dancers' stage."

"But he just told us to clean out this place!" Ron whined.

"You mean you're not done?" Hermione was shocked. "Here!" With a simple wave of her wand, the trash was cleared, the floor clean, and the spiderwebs gone.

"Well, that was easy," Harry said simply.

·~··~··~·

By following weekend, the old Who Wants To Be A Millionaire set was transformed into a happenin' new magic nightclub, and all was going honky-dorey. Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender put on quite a show in tiny leopard-skin dance outfits, Ron was doing a fine job of DJ (that is, after he found out CD's were _not_ supposed to be put on a record player, or played with a guitar pick), Harry did his best at trying to make Cosmopolitans and Jack-and-Cokes, Gin-Gin was prancing around the sick male customers okay, but with the occasional tushy grab, and Neville did his best to keep out village squares and Slytherins. All in all, the club was a hit.

"Great... turn-out... guys," gasped a very sweaty and jive-happy Katie Bell.

"Thanks, Katie!" George called from across the dance floor. He then turned back to dance wildly with Alicia.

"Yeah, at first I thought you guys were loony, but this is _awsome_!" agreed some Ravenclaw who was dancing horribly, yet convinced he was just 'getting jiggy'.

The dancers' current number stopped and they got off stage to take a break (with many groans from pathetic wizards without girlfriends). Hermione took a drink from a passing tray and went over to Ron.

"You figured out how everything works yet?" she screamed over the music.

"What? Oh, yes, you looked very hot up there!" Ron replied. He turned back to spin a few records.

Meanwhile...

"Sir, have you yet found out where all the students have gone?" Professor McGonagall asked severely.

"No, Minerva, but I think I have some idea," Dumbledore replied.

"What?" she asked, her eyes large and illuminated.

"Well, I have been gathering clues- flyers, drink lists, bags of clothing from skanky stores- this could only mean one thing."

"You mean-"

"Yes, Minerva, Hogwarts now has its own official hip dance club."

Professor McGonagall's hand covered her gaping mouth as Dumbledore stormed out of his office.

Back at the MagiClub...

"Whoa," Ginny said as she sat on a bar stool. "I never knew being a waitress meant being groped every other minute!"

Harry said nothing, but blushed. Ginny being there seemed to have distracted him from the drink he was pouring, and vodka was flowing freely on the countertop.

Ginny giggled. "I like the blue hair thing. I think it suites you well."

"Oh, yeah... just thought I could look a little, er, 'hipper'," Harry ran his hair through his spiky new blue hair.

Quite suddenly, the door burst open, the music stopped, the wizards stopped gettin' down on the dance floor, and in walked none other than- you guessed it- Albus Dumbledore, the coolist bar-hopper in town.

I suppose that last line should have been Voldemort and not Dumbledore, but for now I'll make him work. It seems the more I read this fic, the more I cringe at the thought of how many flames I'll get. But I don't care! I'm taking a break from being sensible, so if you don't like it, I'll go and read YOUR most pathetic story and tell YOU exactly what I think of it! Every writer is entitled to at least one rotten fanfic, so go nuts.

Special thanks my only lovely reviewer who bothered to say nice things, 'Nobody in Particular'. May Santa bring you many good presents this year.


	4. What Everyone Expected From Slytherin

"The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub" By Quidditch, Anyone?

What Everyone Expected From Slytherin

Now, every must already assume that Dumbledore is the biggest Disco-King in all of wizarding history. I mean, how could he not be? He looks the part, acts the part, and is the most famous wizard of his time. It was bound to happen that ol' Albus would be tearing up the dance floor before long.

So there he was, in bright blue bellbottoms, his funkiest wizard hat, a rather shocking orange open vest, and a gold peace sign on a chain over his bare chest. Young wizards and witches alike parted so he has a clear route to the spotlight (which just happened to appear out of nowhere).

"Ron," Fred hissed at his astonished brother. "Now would be a good time to-"

And, right on cue, Ron started playing funky music from the 70's just as Dumbledore did a disco move to put every boy band to shame (which, then again, isn't saying much). Then, as the teenagers present started tapping their feet to the beat and bobbing their heads, the dance floor filled in and everyone was once again rockin' the house.

Gin-Gin turned to Harry back at the bar. "Wanna dance?" she asked sheepishly.

"Er, I- I don't really- I never..." Harry mumbled.

"Oh, go on, lover boy," George appeared suddenly and grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him around the bar. Whiplashed, yet thankful, Harry started groovin' with his red-headed partner.

Ron was watching Harry and Ginny and got the sudden urge to ask Hermione to dance. He glanced at her breifly just as she did the same. Good thing strobelights were dancing in the dark bar, otherwise they would see how red the other had gotten. Ron looked away, embarrassed, and mumbled something like, "Wannadancewimme?"

Before he even finished, Hermione steered him into the crowd and they started to jive.

Soon everyone was partnered with their crush; Lavender and Seamus, Parvati and Lee Jordon, Ernie and Justin... between the music, blood alcohol levels increasing, and skimpy clothing, everyone was having, well, the time of their lives.

Or, as it seems to be in the imaginary world of every story you can think of, it meant trouble was on its way. Oh, how very cliche...

For the second time that night (Wasn't it Neville's job to keep out the squares and teachers? Oh, wait, he had three sips of a margarita and passed out... that's right), the doors flew opened and a climactic scene unraveled... dressed in woman's clothes, plastered in glitter, sporting very obnoxious platform shoes- were the Slytherins!

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Fred yelled. He and George pushed their way through the crowd to meet the Slytherins face-to-face.

"No, wait Fred," came the heroic voice of a black-haired boy. "This is personal."

"Oh, God, here comes Potter... going to save the day _again_ from the forces of evil," Draco Malfoy sighed as Harry came up. A few people in back nodded slightly and rolled their eyes, too.

"The most evil thing here," said a sweaty Ron. "is the way you're dressed."

Malfoy stepped in front of the rest of the Slytherins and everyone caught sight of his fish-net stockings, black miniskirt, tank top, and platforms.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore questioned.

"I think _I'd_ better take care of this, Draco," said a Snape who was previously hidden in the shadows. And, not to mention, wearing a pink sequined dress and matching feather boa.

"You see, Headmaster," cross-dressing Snape began. "The Slytherins and I have been talking, and we don't really think it's fair that the rest of the school has access their own nightclub here in Hogsmeade, when the closest gay bar is 300 miles away."

"And for good reason," said a disgusted Harry.

"So... you mean to say that-" Hermione began.

"Yeah, that's right, Mud-blood," drawled Malfoy. "We're gay."

"All of us," said a fourth-year.

"Yup," said Crabbe and Goyle.

I'm sorry. I have absolutly nothing agains people who are gay, but I just thought it would make sense. I mean, Crabbe and Goyle went to the ball together in book four! Besides, the plot was getting boring; it needed, erm, a little 'something', right? Oh well... I plan to end the story within the next few chapters anyway.


	5. Comes To Save The Day Again

"The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub" by Quidditch, Anyone?

Comes To Save The Day... Again

Poor Gryffindor. After all the time and hard labor put into this kickin' club, all they had to show for it was a grimey bar full of homosexuals.

"All that work we did, and now those bloody Slytherins just took it away," Fred sighed as he took a sip of warm butterbeer. Having no where else to go the next day, the rest of the school decided to hang around- not jive, not boogie, just hang around- in the Three Broomsticks among the sickly old wizards and hags. This sucked.

"If only there were a way to get it back," Ron wondered.

"Yeah, but I don't want to even step foot into our club now. I might be scarred for life at the sight of Snape in his dress," George pointed out.

A few others at their tabled murmered in agreement.

Harry said nothing. He had just been thinking how easy it was to take on the Dark Lord, save the world, and battle a full-size dragon all in the course of a school year, but how hard it must be to reclaim a bar from a bunch of gay Slytherins. It was a completely different story.

Or was it?

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Battling against a few transvestites might be very much like battling Voldemort. All that was really required was a group of allies, a few good spells, and the willpower to do a good deed. Right?

·~··~··~·

"Harry, what exactly is this about?" Ron asked grumpily. He, Hermione, Harry, and the twins were down in the common room in their pajamas and night things at 2 in the morning, at Harry's request.

"Well, today I was thinking in the Three Broomsticks- if a group of teenage students like us can fight You-Know-Who and thwart him and the forces of evil from taking over, then why can't we fight a group of Slytherins?"

"Because they have weapons even You-Know-Who doesn't have," said Fred.

"Like what?"

"Like dance moves, body glitter, and subscribtions to _Queer Queen_. It's a lot more than we can handle, really," George put in.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "But I _know_ we can! God, I'm The Boy Who Lived!" Harry had turned Ron's classic shade of red. He, of course, wasn't used to being told 'you can't'.

Hermione sighed. "Well, maybe we can try. I have a book that might be useful; _Handguns and Homos: A History of the Battles Between Heteros and Gays. _I'll have a look at that."

"Great! And I'll draw up a plan," Harry said cheerfully. Ah, the sweet satisfaction of still being the dreamy, heroic main character.

"And I'll just shake my head and go along with the plan, seeing as I'm just the one-liner sidekick," said Ron.

"That's the spirit!"

I know this is short and stupid, but I'll have to stop here for lack of creativity. I can assure you my stories will get better once I get back my main points of inspiration- the weirdos at my school. Really, it's like a field day. Cheesy couples, eavesdropping on conversations, gossip at lunch... don't take advantage of the odd people around you; they are truely the ticket to good writing. It's sort of like Jane Goodall studying the chimps. But for now, I apologize for my story, not updating, and being as interesting as that gross sponge with the food stuck on it in your sink. Yughck.


	6. The Battle Well, Kinda

"The Jivin' Wizard MagiClub" by Quidditch, Anyone?

  


The Battle... Well, Kinda

  


That same night, even though the good guys were still in their jammies, they had pulled together a rather large squad of people to help crash the party that was being held again tonight. They reached the bar silently. Peeking through the windows, Harry got a full blast of the, er, adjustments made.

  


The MagiClub couldn't have undergone a more drastic change. Instead of techno music which was quite popular among the wizard teens, the club played 'The Best of Cher'. The drinks were different, the dancing was different, and the signs on the bathroom which distinguished them as a 'Men's or 'Women's were inexistent. 

  


"All right, the jig is up! We've had enough of your antics! Now, get out of our bar, and for God's sake, all of you- put some pants on!" Harry said in disgust as he burst through the doors. His wand was out in front of him and pointed at the closest Slytherin- Malfoy.

  


"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Harry," Draco said softly. "I'm sure if we can just talk this over-"

  


"No way, Malfoy. This bar is _our_ creation, and we're the ones who deserve to have it," George said. He and about two dozen others followed Harry and also were armed with wands.

  


For a second, it looked as if a war would break out. The two ring leaders, Harry and Malfoy, stood face-to-mascara-covered-face in the front of the others, who were all glaring with hatred and malice. Wait, this didn't look like the beginning of a war... more like a musical scene from West Side Story! Only... not!

  


"Harry, friends, foes..." Malfoy began. "We _could_ stay and battle well into the night-"

  


"But we're not really wearing the right shoes-" piped up a Slytherin from the second row.

  


"_No_, because violence never solved anything," Malfoy pointed out.

  


"Sure it has!" Neville voiced. "Take a look at history! Muggles have already had two World Wars, and if the Americans hadn't rebelled in the eighteenth century, why, they'd still be a bunch of bloody colonies owned by us! That and countless goblin rebellions, the entire era in which You-Know-Who was in power..." he rattled off a few other events of world revolution.

  


"Well, okay, so you have a point, Longbottom," Draco interrupted. "But we don't need to go into a whole bloody war now! Can we at least _try_ to talk this over?"

  


"Well," Harry lowered his wand. "I guess you _do_ have a point. There's already enough discrimination against gays in this world. I mean, you're people, too, and it's not really fair if we run you out of our MagiClub just for that reason."

  


"But, it _was_ your idea... and you built this entire thing. It was awfully rude of us to just come and take it all over."

  


"Hey, this place was destined to be subject to change," Fred said. "How about on Saturdays and every other Sundays you have the bar, and we'll have it-"

  


"Oh, wake up everyone! This is the problem with every teenager, author, movie director... just about _everyone_ who had anything to do with the media. You all create these huge problems so your plots and pathetic adolescent lives will be more interesting, but then you just end up making a whole bunch of other problems, and you complain because you can't solve them! Why can't everyone just grow up, stop your whining, finish the fanfics, and take the easy way out by all gettin' jiggy TOGETHER?"

  


Everyone stared at Ron. Although he was portrayed as the impatient guy who hardly had any opinions or solutions of his own, his theory made the most sense of anything else in this whole plot. Who knew?

  


"Well, I'm sold. Bartender, make me one of those trendy lounge cocktails," Fred said.

  


So with that, the music started once again (something between 'Believe' and 'Venga Boys'), and everyone at Hogwarts was once again living happily ever after. Only this time, they were happily groovin' in their night club in their pajamas alongside the cross-dressing Slytherins. The End!

  


  


Yup, that's it. My first official fic that doesn't make much sense. In case you're wondering, the bugs in my house seemed to have gotten the hint, all except for one huge ant I met this morning and a spider that still chills around the shower. I've decided to call him Junior, because he's miniscule compared to the one that was by my sink, who at first I thought was Aragog. So I guess my own problem turned out just like this fic- a little wacky, fun to play around with, ending happily, and not as interesting as I had anticipated. Oh well. 


End file.
